All I've Never Wanted(18)

Roman smirked. He'd known all about Adriana's plan to scope out a suitable candidate for the challenge Saturday night; unfortunately for her, he'd already heard about the party and only pretended not to. Besides, Carlo had been oddly distracted that night and didn't put up much resistance when Roman decided to go to Stan's house.

He settled comfortably into his seat, secure in the knowledge that he was, after all, Roman Fiori, and nothing significant happened in his town without his knowledge or consent.

* * *

A week passed by—the longest, most miserable, most paranoid week I had ever endured. By the third day, I had developed an almost masochistic attitude towards the other students' abuse. I no longer went to school early, nor did I hide out in the library. I also refused to take pity from the few teachers who tried to discreetly help me.

Instead, I went about my business as best I could, even though there was never more than a five-minute break between the harassment. It happened everywhere and at any time: in the classroom, the DC, the halls, the bathroom, during school assemblies and morning announcements and even while taking tests. Just the other day, I had been accused of cheating and had gotten my math test taken away.

That had been hard to swallow. I had always prided myself on my grades, but my concentration was slipping. That wouldn't do. I suffered the abuse because it actually made me feel better for the cowardliness I'd been cocooned in the past year.

I could tell my resistance was baffling to the others, who had never had much trouble driving everyone else away.

Still, at least it was Friday afternoon, which meant there would be two days worth of reprieve until it all started again.

I bowed my head, letting the warmth of the sun wash over me even as a slight chill signaling the arrival of fall floated through the air, gentle but crisp. It was getting hard hiding everything from my parents. I hadn't told them what happened, of course—I didn't want them to worry—but despite my best efforts to clean myself up before I went home, they were getting suspicious, and my excuses were growing flimsier and less believable by the day.

Suddenly, I felt a vibration in my bag, and with a small frown, I pulled out my cell phone. An unfamiliar number flashed across the screen.

I was confused. No one ever called me except for my family and Venice. I communicated with my old friends solely through emails, Facebook, and text messages, though those had become few and far in between.

"Hello?" I asked warily.

"Hi, is this Maya?" a rather familiar voice asked.

I hesitated. "Yes?" It came out more like a question than I would've liked.

"Hey, this is James."

My eyes widened in surprise. James? The same James I'd met all that time ago? Actually, now that I thought about it, it had barely been a week.

God, Stan’s party felt like forever ago.

"Oh, hi," I said, even more confused. Why was he calling me now? "Um…how did you get my number?" I immediately wanted to take back that stupid question. Though it was a perfectly reasonable one, it also sounded kind of rude.

James, though, apparently didn't think so. "I got it from my friend who knew Venice," he admitted sheepishly. "I hope that wasn't too forward."

"No…no, it's ok." I cleared her throat. "So…" I trailed off, hoping he would indicate why, exactly, he had called.


Luckily, he did. "Listen, I just wanted to apologize," James said quickly. "For Saturday night. I let my temper get the best of me and…well, I kind of feel like you're only in this predicament because you wanted to—protect me?" His voice lowered a bit at the end of the sentence, uncertain.

I pondered this a bit. I was surprised to find his conclusion was, in fact, right. I had wanted to protect him, because he'd been so nice and down-to-earth, which was ironic because I felt like he had wanted to help me by going toe-to-toe with Parker. At the same time, though, I had been motivated by other factors to ream Roman out. "You don't have to apologize," I assured him. "Trust me, it's not your fault I—" I stopped. Something he'd just said finally registered. "Wait, what do you mean by my 'predicament.'?"

James took such a long time to answer I thought he'd hung up. Finally, reluctantly, he said, "Well, what's happening to you in school right now would be considered a predicament…" His voice trailed off.

"How did you know about what's happening?" I didn't bother trying to deny it. What was the point?

"Some of my friends told me."

Yeah, and they've probably participated, I thought, feeling bad even as I thought it. It wasn't James' fault Valescans were such *s.

"Yeah, well, I'll survive." I shrugged, even though I realized he couldn't see me. "I mean, it's not—"

I broke off when I noticed a distinct black-and-electric-blue Ferrari pulling up beside me. I was so shocked I didn't even notice when my phone slipped out of my hands and crashed on the sidewalk, the back cover and battery promptly spilling out.

This was what I got for still using an old-school Motorola instead of an iPhone like everyone else.

I just stood there, stunned and paralyzed, as the window rolled down and Roman Fiori's irritated face, half-hidden by dark designer shades, emerged.

"Get in," he ordered gruffly.